


Of French Girls And Pretty Boys

by merycula (thanksillpass)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksillpass/pseuds/merycula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kasamatsu takes up art class for extra credit, and Kise is the unfairly attractive figure model.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of French Girls And Pretty Boys

Kasamatsu knew exactly two things at the moment. One, he hated his life. Two, he hated Moriyama even more. Art class is an easy way of getting extra credit, he said. All the girls are too busy sighing dreamily over da Vinci to pay any attention to you, he said. A shitload of crap, is what he said – every single word.

First of all, you couldn’t bullshit your way out of having completely zero artistic talent whatsoever, which was something Yukio’s over-caffeinated brain apparently didn’t comprehend when he signed up for the course. Second of all, all the girls in the class seemed to think it was “endearing” and “adorable” that Kasamatsu took up the course even though he couldn’t even draw a straight line, and flocked around him like mother hens desperate to teach and protect him.

Yukio absolutely hated his life.

And that was  _before_  he walked into the class late one day, only to nearly topple over someone who turned out to be their figure model – an unfairly attractive one, to make things worse. Kasamatsu rarely  _dated_  pretty guys like that, often annoyed and exhausted by their seeming unavoidable vanity and arrogance, but it sure didn’t stop him from slobbering all over them from a safe distance. And the distance between the model and Kasamatsu’s drooling face was definitely not safe enough, so he needed to quit the class this instant, extra credit be damned.

But before he could announce it to the teacher, Yukio suddenly noticed something was off, and he bit his tongue in order to inspect the reason behind the odd feeling before making the final decision. It was the girls, he realized, who seemed to think he was completely invisible all of the sudden, their attention focused entirely on the model. Kasamatsu took a seat, mesmerized by the blissful peace of no one invading his personal space even more than by the model himself.

“Huh,” he muttered under his breath, turning to Moriyama, who was clearly displeased for the same reason Yukio was ecstatic. “Can you hear it? It’s my sanity sighing contentedly.”

Moriyama scoffed. “No, it’s the sound of all my hopes and dreams being crushed. The pretty boy over there just rendered every male student here invisible.”

“Precisely!” said Kasamatsu, grinning maniacally. “I’m gonna have to buy him a beer or something.”

“You  _hate_  guys like that,” reminded Moriyama, outraged. “You wanna blow them, yeah, but you hate them!”

Yukio rolled his eyes, unable to get rid of the grin that was starting to make his face go numb, and decided he was content enough to remain professional – he would draw the model as instructed, and he would  _not_  get a hate boner for him, ever. In spite of all the grief the class has caused him, it did teach Kasamatsu to appreciate art and focus on its technical aspect regardless of his biased feelings about the subject. If he could competently analyze a Picasso’s painting despite thinking a blind dog could paint a better picture, he surely could draw a pretty face without coming in his pants and hating himself for it.

The more carefully he studied the model, the more he realized that the boy wasn’t  _just_  pretty, but absolutely beautiful, which was beyond upsetting. His face was ridiculously symmetrical, as if the goddamn Michelangelo himself sculpted it, and its perfect proportions almost made Yukio regret he wasn’t better at drawing, and the best he could do with his pencil was to create a sad caricature, undeniably offensive to the model’s beauty.

His eyes were especially absurd, even without the visible eyeliner there to bring them up – if Kasamatsu had a more poetic soul, he would definitely compare them to liquid gold or something pathetic like that, but he settled for “very nice.” The lips were the worse, though, because it was nearly impossible to think anything even remotely decent about them.

By the end of the class, he was decidedly less professional and much more exhausted than he anticipated, and he couldn’t get out of there fast enough, so he sneaked out while all the girls flocked around the model. He was almost at the clubhouse when he realized he forgot his phone in the classroom, and he went back reluctantly, hoping his teammates wouldn’t get any weird ideas in his absence.

He expected the classroom to be empty, save for the teacher, but he found the model there instead. Halting in his steps, Yukio stared at the guy leisurely walking around the room and looking at the pictures left behind by the students. That’s when Kasamatsu realized  _his_  drawing was there as well, and decided to act before it was discovered and he completely lost the remnants of his self-esteem, already violated by endless weeks of having his horrendous artistic skills appraised by a teacher.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped defensively.

The guy looked up at him and grinned brightly. “I like looking at the results of me standing motionlessly for an hour~ It’s interesting to see how other people see me.”

“Narcissist,” thought Yukio, but what he said was, “Whatever. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Huh? But the teacher let me! Don’t be like that, senpai! I’m Kise, by the way~”

Kasamatsu hesitantly introduced himself, and moved past Kise to retrieve his phone, which he found on the windowsill he usually sat next to. He tried his best to ignore the nagging panic he felt because of Kise’s dangerous proximity to Yukio’s pitiful caricature, but he couldn’t help raking his mind in search of something that would save him. He nearly crushed his phone in his hand when he turned around to see Kise standing right in front of his drawing, gaping at it with wide eyes.

“Oh, God, please don’t look at that,” he whimpered. “I’m only here for the extra credit, okay? If it makes you feel any better, I actually did get better at dra-”

“ _You_  drew this?” demanded Kise, his voice skyrocketing. “I think I’m gonna cry…”

Kasamatsu groaned in shame. “Look, I’m sorry for not being a next Rembrandt, or some-”

“It’s so beautiful…”

Well, that definitely shut Yukio up. “What?”

Kise promptly started explaining why he was so taken by the picture, spewing poetics about passion and other intense feelings apparently emanating from it, and Kasamatsu had to lean over to make sure they were talking about the same drawing, but there it was – his awful rendition of Kise’s beautiful face. Frowning in confusion, he looked at Kise, who kept staring at the picture as if it was the eighth wonder of the world, his breathing labored from emotion. Deciding in that very moment that Kise was clinically insane, Yukio slowly backed away until he was safely outside the door.

Admittedly, discovering how weird their new model was put a damper on Kasamatsu’s unfortunate attraction, so at least occupying the same space as him became easier. On the other hand, Kise seemed to become smitten with  _him_  in turn, and brought the girls’ attention back to Yukio, by constantly favoring him in really embarrassing ways, like saving him a seat when he was late, or waving to him across the room when he was early.

Kasamatsu hated his life again.

He thought he could avoid Kise altogether by leaving before anyone else, but the model stopped loitering around the classroom to admire portraits of himself, and started following Yukio around. The worst part was that he had the audacity not only to be relentless in his infatuation, but also to be preposterously  _likeable._

Unlike many guys of this type, which was too beautiful for mere mortals to handle, Kise was  _nice_  – he was confident, but he didn’t think the sun shined out of his ass, and as much as he seemed to enjoy attention, he wasn’t cruel to those who offered it. He always listened intently, and when he talked, it was more about his friends than about himself, which confused Kasamatsu at first, until it finally made him realize what a judgmental ass he has been all this time.

Sure, Kise was often annoyingly whiny and so clingy that Kasamatsu had to literally beat him off of himself, but he was patient with Yukio and completely unfazed by his prickly personality, which was more than what Kasamatsu could say about most of his acquaintances (perhaps with the exception of Moriyama, who was too absorbed with women who had no idea he existed to be offended by his temper tantrums). Kise Ryouta was a really good friend, and once Yukio realized that they have indeed formed a friendship, he panicked.

From what he could tell, Kise liked him. Which would be great, if it weren’t for one tiny detail, namely that Kasamatsu  _like-liked_  him, and it wasn’t an easy conclusion to reach. The jealousy he felt toward all the girls usually herding around Kise could easily be written off as discomfort caused by their mere presence, which was something Yukio had dealt with almost all his life. The urge to  _hug_  Kise when he told him he had to quit basketball in high school due to leg injury could be as easily ascribed to Kasamatu’s intense relationship with the beloved sport. The mortifying erection he got when Kise was posing nude in class, well, that was just his body having blood coursing through it.

What actually tipped Yukio off was his teacher’s comment about one his drawings.

“I can’t stop thinking about that portrait,” she admitted. “You still can’t draw for shit, even though you did improve, but- I don’t know. Everyone else draws Kise-kun differently, of course, but there’s a pattern. They…  _glorify_  him. You? At first I thought you were just being messy, but those were deliberate.”

She took out Kasamatsu’s drawing from the drawer and started pointing out certain details. “An inflamed eye, a closed earring hole, a birthmark on his rib, a scar on his shoulder. I know you couldn’t see it from where you were sitting. I figured you made it all up, just to make him  _im_ perfect. Unless… No, never mind. It’s… incredible, to be honest. Don’t tell anyone that, but I teared up a bit.”

Yukio swallowed thickly, determined not to open his mouth, lest the embarrassing truth was to come out of them. He didn’t make any of it up – he  _knew_  it was there. Kise texted him that morning to complain about having something in his eye, and Kasamatsu specifically remembered what punishment he promised Kise if he didn’t stop rubbing it. Kise had told him he used to wear an earring in high school, and Kasamatsu has seen the funny mark on his side when they were changing after a basketball one-on-one.  _He_  gave Kise that scar when the model’s leg refused to cooperate and Yukio pushed him too hard onto a metal fence.

The funny part was that it wasn’t even the point.  _Unless,_  the teacher said, and Kasamatsu might be a bit rough around the edges, but he wasn’t completely socially inept – he knew what that  _unless_  was supposed to be followed by. And she was right in her suspicions, because Yukio wasn’t the kind of person to pay attention to silly details like that about his friends, seeing as he still couldn’t even recall the color of Moriyama’s eyes, and definitely not the kind to  _draw_  them.

He had a giant pathetic crush and the only reasonable option was to hole himself in his dorm room and  _sulk._  Luckily, Moriyama never stuck around for weekends, so Kasamatsu had two blissful days of wallowing in misery. Before he knew it, nothing was resolved, and Moriyama was back in the dorm, giving him and his guitar a pitying look.

“What’s up with you?” he scoffed. “You in love again, or something? You always play that old junk when you wanna see someone naked.”

“I’ve already seen him naked…” mumbled Yukio offhandedly, instantly regretting it.

Moriyama’s eyes widened comically, and a nasty triumphant grin split his smug face. “Oooooh, you shouldn’t have said that, my friend! Ooooooh, I can’t believe it! You have a crush on the model! That’s the best thing that’s happened to me all day! Week even!”

“It’s only Monday, idiot…” muttered Kasamatsu in attempt to hide his embarrassment.

Moriyama cackled. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I need a moment here. You used to beat punks like that in high school, and now you’re in  _love_  with one of them! This is priceless!”

“I didn’t beat  _anyone,_  I wasn’t a  _bully,_  you creep! Besides, you don’t know him…”

Moriyama sobbed hysterically. “I don’t- Oh, I literally cannot believe you just said something this cliché... I need to call my mom, she will  _freak!”_

Yukio decided not to point out that Moriyama gossiped with his  _mom,_  of all people, because nothing he could say would make this fact sadder than it already was. Not to mention that it filled him with the urge to call home and  _whine,_  which was never a good idea, because no dorm room was designed to withstand an onslaught of worried mothers, suspicious fathers, and twin teenage boys that cared even less about Kasamatsu’s emotional well-being than about the fact he had to  _pay_  for any damage they did to the room.

And despite all that, he was still willing to call his mom, which was pretty telling about his current mental state, and he would have, if Kise didn’t call him first. Yukio was ignoring his texts and calls for the entire weekend, and since Kise has probably already found out he skipped today’s classes as well, he must have been losing his mind with worry at this point, so Kasamatsu had to pick up if he didn’t want Kise showing up at his doorstep with a SAT unit. 

“What,” he snapped.

“Kasamatsucchi!!!” wailed Kise so loudly that Yukio had to take the phone away from his ear.

Only it didn’t help, because Kise’s voice was coming not only from the phone, but also from behind the wall, and Kasamatsu had to roll his eyes as he ended the call and opened the door. Kise looked like he was about to cry, and he still looked so goddamn pretty it almost made Yukio sick. He immediately threw himself in Kasamatu’s arms, sobbing in-between explaining how worried he was, and that he didn’t want to be a bother, but three days were too long to ignore him. Kasamatsu rolled his eyes again, patting his back awkwardly, and stepped outside to look around the corridor, dragging Kise along, because he refused to let go of him.

“What are you doing, Kasamatsucchi?!” demanded Kise, still clutching at his back.

“Looking for the SAT unit…” muttered Yukio, before going back inside and closing the door.

Kise gasped in outrage, pulling away. “Don’t make fun of me, senpai! I know you like your space, and you work hard so you’re busy, but I was really worried! You could have at least replied to one message so I knew you weren’t  _dead!_  Now you have to hug me, and you’re not allowed to kick me!”

And with that, he unceremoniously wrapped himself around Kasamatsu like a vice, grumbling complaints under his breath. Yukio’s first instinct was to throw him off, but he sagged into the embrace, surprising himself even more than Kise, who hummed contentedly, making Kasamatsu tense in panic. He willed his body to relax, and pulled lightly on Kise’s ear, which was a more humanitarian way of making him let go than sucker-punching him, although it did a poor job of distracting Kise’s attention from the obvious blush on Yukio’s face.

“Well, I’m fine, so-” he stammered awkwardly.

Kise pouted. “You don’t look fine, Kasamatsucchi…”

“Poor genetics,” he snapped, more uncomfortable with Kise’s concern with each passing second. “Now, did you have something you needed?”

“Just wanted to see you,” said Kise softly, dropping his eyes to the floor.

Kasamatsu was about to say something rude, like “You saw me,” but he was suddenly overwhelmed with affection, so he just sighed and cracked a lopsided smile. Kise lit up, seeing the change in Yukio’s attitude, and it suddenly seemed ridiculous to Kasamatsu that Kise – bright, cheerful, selfless Kise – wasted his time and energy on dealing with a grump like Yukio, instead of spending it on one of the countless people who basically worshipped him.

“How come you’re not dating anyone?” he blurted out, unable to stop himself.

Kise instantly paled, the smile slipping off his face. “What. What do you mean? Aren’t we- Oh, oh my God…”

He hid his face in his hands, the tips of his ears turning read, and Kasamatsu’s brain halted, because he was definitely not getting something here. Did Kise just say what Yukio thought he said? It seemed too improbable, because even Kise wasn’t  _that_  stupid, but Kasamatsu had to be absolutely sure. He rubbed his face and took a deep breath, forcing his throat to cooperate.

“Wait, wait, wait, back up. You think  _we_  are dating?”

Kise whimpered into his hand, shaking his head. “We go on dates!!! I  _pay_  every time!”

All breath and reason left Yukio’s body with an audible whoosh, only to be replaced by pure, blinding anger; Kise  _was_  that stupid after all. Or maybe, Kasamatsu was, he wasn’t sure anymore, because now that he thought about it, explaining Kise’s tendency to pay whenever they hung out as taking pity and/or flaunting his wealth in Yukio’s face could be a bit of a stretch. On the other hand, not that Kasamatsu had that much experience, but he usually could recognize a date when he was on one, and he definitely couldn’t remember being on one with Kise Ryouta.

“We  _hang out,_  dumbass!” he spluttered, simultaneously flustered and angry. “People who date hold hands and kiss and all that shit. You haven’t made a pass at me even once! I mean, if that’s not your thing, it’s fine, I can date someone without making out, but some heads-up would be nice?!”

Kise dropped his hands and gaped at Yukio. “What, no! It’s totally my thing, I wanna do the thing! I just- You don’t like me touching you and- You generally don’t strike me as someone who’s into PDA and- I don’t know, I thought we had a few moments, but you never- I thought you weren’t ready?”

Kasamatsu felt his brow twitch in frustration – he instantly forgot he was supposed to be happy that his feelings were reciprocated, because he just couldn’t believe how stupid could a person be. Besides, focusing his rage on Kise’s obliviousness was way better than pondering on his own obliviousness, as well as all of his life choices, and everything about his general self that made Kise assume that Yukio needed to be  _coddled,_  and not vigorously fucked against the wall.

He  _needed_  to be angry, because the less furious he was, the more embarrassed he felt, because –  _holy shit –_ he has been dating Kise all this time and didn’t even know, and someone had to take the blame, and it definitely wasn’t going to be Kasamatsu.  _Jesus Christ,_  he could have spent this weekend in bed with Kise instead of a six-pack of cheap beer and an old guitar, and it was beyond infuriating, which must have been showing, because Kise visibly shrunk in on himself.

“Ready?!” seethed Yukio. “ _Ready?!_  I was ready to jump your bones the moment I saw you in the classroom for the first time, you complete  _idiot!_  Do you want me to kick you?! I will fucking  _kill you,_  brat! That’s not how you date me, you  _moron!”_

“I’m sorry, senpai, I didn’t know!” cried Kise, shielding his face with his arms. “I’ll get better, I promise!”

“Damn right you will!”

Just when Kasamatsu decided it was a good moment to stop with the shouting and move on to the kissing, someone behind them cackled loudly, making them both freeze in terror. Yukio turned around stiffly, eyes wide in horror, and immediately wished for the world to end – he forgot that Moriyama was still in the dorm room, simply hiding in the bathroom. Now Kasamatsu was forced to realize that his roommate has heard everything, judging by the fact that he was currently leaning against the doorframe, wearing a shit-eating grin, and snacking on fucking _popcorn,_ as if watching the most humiliating moment of Yukio’s life was  _entertaining_  him.

“Sorry, that was my mom, she’s on speaker. We didn’t mean to interrupt, sorry. Please, continue.”

At that moment, Kasamatsu knew exactly two things. One, he hated his life. Two, he hated Moriyama even more.


End file.
